


Rust

by Andelous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andelous/pseuds/Andelous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The grass beneath her is pale and dead and it crackles roughly when people crush it beneath their feet. No one really ever looks at her, or even bothers to give her more than a passing thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rust

It is a cold morning in November, leaves blow past her as she sits there motionless on the withered grass. She had long since rusted and fallen apart in a junk yard on the outskirts of a small town.

 

Kids pass her by, running their hands along the rumpled metal that lost its shine after one too many storms and lack of care. The grass beneath her is pale and dead and it crackles roughly when people crush it beneath their feet. No one really ever looks at her, or even bothers to give her more than a passing thought.

 

She was the car that had always been there, occupying that otherwise vacant spot. But in reality, there was once a time, so far back that no one remembers now, when two boys rode around the country in that car. They drove for so long, almost all of their lives; her wheels hot, and the windows rolled down, wind blowing through and catching in their hair. She would play old songs that no one knows the words to anymore.

 

There were moldy crumbs of pie wedged between the seats, torn bits of paper, and signs of ripped leather. She still smells faintly of cherries, but only on the driver’s side. And the backseat smells of dog. The poor passenger doesn’t have a scent at all anymore…

                

So many memories cling to the peeled, chipped paint, and are engraved on the worn leather. Memories about the two boys who loved her. The boys who were good. That saved the world a couple times. Who fought monsters and demons and made a mockery of fear. But, of course, in the end, they were also the boys who died.  
  
Here, now, in that place, sometimes a man will visit her. He’ll stand beside her for a moment, staring- just staring- while the dirty beige trench coat that he wears flutters softly in the breeze. And always, when the sun begins to set, the man sits on the hood, his legs folded up beneath him, and that is where he’ll sit for hours, watching the stars with her.

 

There’s a rumor that before he leaves, he caresses her side gently and whispers, “Thank you for taking care of them.”

 

And the man vanishes, gone from the world in an instant, back to the place where the boys are waiting, stuck in that never-ending loop of memories…

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr.


End file.
